


Small Treasures

by Rosie-Ann (ruffboi)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Prompt Fic, but was not originally intended to be, could be read as slash, sam's bag holds everything, shirebunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-04
Updated: 2004-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffboi/pseuds/Rosie-Ann
Summary: A Shirebound Shirebunny-inspired story. "In Rivendell, Sam is thinking about all the things he's packed for the Quest, including "small belongings of his master's that Frodo had forgotten and Sam had stowed to bring them out in triumph when they were called for." Whatever had Sam packed? When were they called for?"
Relationships: Frodo Baggins & Sam Gamgee
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Small Treasures

_"Sam eased the pack on his shoulders, and went over anxiously in his mind all the things that he had stowed in it, wondering if he had forgotten anything: his chief treasure, his cooking gear; and the little box of salt that he always carried and refilled when he could; a good supply of pipe-weed (but not near enough, I'll warrant); flint and tinder; woollen hose: linen; various small belongings of his master's that Frodo had forgotten and Sam had stowed to bring them out in triumph when they were called for. He went through them all." **~From "The Ring Goes South"**_

"Pippin, did you take my comb?" Frodo asked as he rummaged through his pack. The company had stopped to make camp on their third day out from Rivendell, and Frodo's hair was a tangled mess. However he was, apparently, without a comb with which to untangle his curls.

"No, I didn't." Pippin said, curled up under his blanket already. Merry laughed.

"Come now, Frodo!" he joked. "Do you honestly think our Pippin would have anything to do with a comb?"

"Now that you mention it, no." Frodo replied with a smile. "But I'm still puzzled as to where mine went. I'm absolutely _sure_ I packed it." He dug around in his pack again, pulling a few items out. As he searched, he felt a small tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Sam standing there holding his comb, trying not to look too proud of remembering to bring it.

"Here you are Mr. Frodo. You left it on the dresser in Rivendell, you know." Sam said with a wink. Frodo laughed and took the comb from his friend.

"Whatever would I do without you to look after me, Sam?" he asked.

"Not much!" Pippin piped up from under his blanket. Frodo tossed a small rock in his cousin's direction, and all four of them started laughing. Their companions looked rather confused, but the Hobbits enjoyed their joke and didn't bother to explain.

* * *

"Oh, bother, I've lost a button!" Frodo sighed. Aragorn nodded sympathetically.

"Yes that would be...inconvenient." he replied, hiding a smile from the Hobbit, who of course noticed.

"It is no laughing matter, lad!" Frodo said with mock sternness. "And me without my sewing box, either."

"Begging your pardon, sir," Sam said bashfully, "But I've brought it." Frodo looked at Sam with gratefulness in his eyes.

"Well then, Sam, would you be so kind as to pull it out when we rest next so I can sew a new button on?"

"No sir," Sam said, "But if you'll give me your shirt and put on an extra, I'll fix it up before you can blink."

They stopped for a rest a quarter hour later, and - as he promised - Sam took Frodo's shirt and quickly sewed a new button onto the cuff. When he gave it back, Frodo gave a low whistle. Aragorn leaned over to see what had surprised Frodo, and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm impressed, Sam. This button is not only replaced, but it matches."

"Well." Sam blushed. "It weren't really much of a bother."

* * *

"I think Merry has my only pair of scissors." Frodo sighed as he and Sam sat huddled together, waiting for darkness and Gollum to return. Sam looked thoughtful.

"Why do you need them?" he asked curiously. Frodo gave a small smile.

"Both of our curls have gotten out of hand. Especially yours, Samwise, if I may say so."

"Oh. Well then." Sam wrinkled his nose a bit. "I suppose you're right then, Mr. Frodo." he reached into his pack and, after a moment of searching, produced a pair of Frodo's scissors, specially designated for hair cutting. Frodo let out a small laugh of amazement.

"Is there nothing you don't have in that pack, Sam?" Sam mumbled something unintelligible and pulled out a comb as well. Frodo sat cross-legged on the ground as Sam combed through his hair. He shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable on the ground.

"Sit still now, Mr. Frodo." he said, as if talking to a fidgety Hobbit-lad not yet in his teens. "You wouldn't want me to snip your ear, would you?" 

"No, Sam, I most certainly would not."

* * *

"Well, it was a near thing, Mr. Frodo." Sam sighed. "I almost had them." Frodo looked to the clearing where a few game birds had been a moment before. Sam had done his best to stun one or two, but the stones he had found weren't large enough, and they had only succeeded in scaring the birds away.

"It's alright, Sam." Frodo said. "We have lembas, and the food Faramir gave to us." he gave a rueful smile. "If only I had that sling Bilbo gave to me when I was a tween. I could stun anything with even the smallest pebble back then." 

"Er..." Sam blushed brightly, and Frodo stared at him open-mouthed.

"Don't tell me you brought my _sling_ , Sam!" Sam produced the old weapon and handed it bashfully to Frodo, who just shook his head.

"Well," Sam said as explanation. "You just never know."

* * *

"I'm so tired Sam." Frodo whispered, his eyes closed against the fumes of Mordor.

"I know, Mr. Frodo." Sam pressed something small into his master's hand. "Think of the Shire, though. And Mr. Merry, and Mr. Pippin." Frodo opened his eyes slightly to look at the item in his hand. It was a small, heart-shaped stone that Pippin had given him on his 7th birthday. Frodo felt that if he hadn't been so dry and weary, he would have wept.

"Oh, Sam." he said hoarsely. "My dear, dear Sam."

* * *

"I just wish I could give them something!" Frodo exclaimed. "A mathom would be better than nothing at all!"

"But, Frodo, it's not your birthday." Pippin pointed out. Merry rolled his eyes.

"Pip, it's _their_ custom to give gifts on other peoples' birthdays and on special occasions. Like weddings." he turned to his older cousin. "I'm sure they aren't expecting anything from you! Don't worry so much!"

Later that evening, Frodo was still upset about his lack of gift, and said as much to Sam.

"I just feel I should give them something, Sam. After all that Aragorn did for us." Sam looked down and scuffed his feet a little.

"Would...would a pretty ink well do, do you think?" he asked. Frodo frowned.

"Well, I'm sure it would, Sam. But I don't have an ink well - not one of my own, anyway." Sam blushed and avoided Frodo's eyes, holding out an engraved metal ink well of Frodo's. It had had a quill and matching blotter, once, and Frodo had brought them to use if they were ever needed.

"How..." Frodo looked at Sam with awe filling his eyes.

"I kept it in my pocket, sir. With the box the Lady gave me. It seemed a shame to lose it, and I had a feeling it would be needed, though I didn't know why." Sam smiled shyly. "Will that do? To give to a king and queen?" Frodo smiled at Sam.

"It will do indeed." he pulled Sam into a tight embrace.

"Oh, Sam, what would I do without you?"


End file.
